Unwillingly, a celebrated painter returns to Great-Britain after learning that the king wants to knight him. The prospect frightens him, because he dislikes noise and fuss. Sadly, the faithful valet who accompanied him on his journey sickens and dies. An innocent mistake made by the doctor gives the painter the opportunity to usurp the dead man's identity...
"Holy Matrimony" is an amusing comedy about a painter who starts a new life under a stolen identity. (Strangely enough, this turns out not to be a miracle recipe for a life of unclouded tranquility.) The characters are memorable and the plot is full of clever twists and turns. The headlines of the newspapers commenting on the case are wonderfully daffy.
"Holy Matrimony" also functions as a satirical commentary on the art world, where unsuspecting owners sell their property for a pittance while canny dealers rake in fantastic profits. Not a lot seems to have changed since the 1940's...
In the movie, the king, who wrongly assumes the painter to have died, decrees that the deceased is to buried in Westminster Abbey. Such a state funeral is a prize honor meant to celebrate the painter's genius. The burial in the Abbey is referred to as a translation to Valhalla. Now this concept stumped me badly. I can sort of imagine the Valhalla evoked by Wagnerian opera, but a British Valhalla ? What would such a thing entail ? Do you get warrior maidens in winged helmets serving cucumber sandwiches ? Do roistering heroes drink mead from the skull of Christmas puddings ? Do immortal fists pound oaken tables while their owners sing saucy songs about the early landscapes of Thomas Gainsborough ? The mind, it boggles.
"Holy Matrimony" is an amusing comedy about a painter who starts a new life under a stolen identity. (Strangely enough, this turns out not to be a miracle recipe for a life of unclouded tranquility.) The characters are memorable and the plot is full of clever twists and turns. The headlines of the newspapers commenting on the case are wonderfully daffy.
"Holy Matrimony" also functions as a satirical commentary on the art world, where unsuspecting owners sell their property for a pittance while canny dealers rake in fantastic profits. Not a lot seems to have changed since the 1940's...
In the movie, the king, who wrongly assumes the painter to have died, decrees that the deceased is to buried in Westminster Abbey. Such a state funeral is a prize honor meant to celebrate the painter's genius. The burial in the Abbey is referred to as a translation to Valhalla. Now this concept stumped me badly. I can sort of imagine the Valhalla evoked by Wagnerian opera, but a British Valhalla ? What would such a thing entail ? Do you get warrior maidens in winged helmets serving cucumber sandwiches ? Do roistering heroes drink mead from the skull of Christmas puddings ? Do immortal fists pound oaken tables while their owners sing saucy songs about the early landscapes of Thomas Gainsborough ? The mind, it boggles.